World So Cold
by Taryn.Holmes
Summary: There are different connotations to being clean. There are different reasons for shaking hands. There are different reasons to feel cold.


_AN: This piece has absolutely nothing to do with my first post - nor are future ones likely to be connected. I just figured I'd have a bit of fun on here. _

_What I'm thinking so far is anything I post on this account will probably just be works typed up in Doc Manager like this and the previous one. I'm sorry to say this account is something of an experiment in anonymity, among other things. Any longer (subjective measurement - though probably over 1k) works I'll likely not post here.  
_

* * *

He shivered pitifully in the thin jacket and threadbare jeans he'd nicked from a thrift store donation bin. It was wholly inadequate for the weather but was still a vast improvement over the paper-thin gown he'd been wearing. It was a pity he'd been caught at it before he'd been able to grab a shirt to go with his new ensemble. It was also a pity that the shaking in his limbs wasn't only from the cold. The solution to his shaking would be a lot more trouble to procure than a few flimsy pieces of cloth.

_Hmm, solution. Seven percent would be nice but I'd settle for just one if I could have it now._

He pushed off from the wall he'd been leaning against and wrapped his arms tighter around his torso tucking his hands into his armpits in an attempt to preserve what little heat he was producing. No doubt people would be looking for him and he was far to close to the hospital still for his liking. He had no plans on going back.

_I'd rather freeze than deal with his smug face any longer! It's hardly my fault there were contaminants. I calculated it perfectly. I should have been fine. I _would_ have been fine! He didn't have to stick his fat nose into it._

He looked out the end of the alley he'd been resting in. The street was empty. He dashed for the alleyway on the other side of the street, making his way vaguely towards the more rundown parts of town, his bare feet slapping against the pavement loudly in the otherwise quiet night.

Shoes were actually the first thing on his list of items to acquire. No matter how much he might like a little relief it would hardly do him any good if he ended up with an infection or even simple hypothermia. Either of those conditions would mean a quick one-way trip back to the hospital and this time he was sure they'd be far more vigilant in keeping him there. No doubt having Mycroft berate them for letting him slip out this time would be more than enough incentive to make sure he wouldn't be able to do so again without a fair bit of effort. It simply wouldn't be worth it get a hit first instead of the more practical aspects of street life.

_Doesn't stop me from wanting it though. If they hadn't kept me under so long to clear that batch from my system it'd be a lot more bearable. Mycroft probably had a hand in it. A subtle incentive to get clean no doubt, feeling the effects I usually try to avoid. Fat bastard._

He slipped on an unidentified wet patch near the end of another alley. Unidentified only because at this point he refused to look at how much back-alley filth covered his feet.

_Right, shoes. Marcus' flat is near here. That idiot sold me the last batch so it's only fair if I collect a bit of what I paid for it. He's always out this time of night and it's not like he'll be willing to report anything stolen. Can't have NSY nosing about the place._

Forty minutes later he was warm, fully dressed and free of filth courtesy of a quick raid on his previous dealers currently empty flat. His hands were still shaking.

_Pity being clean has multiple connotations._

It didn't matter though. He held out a shaking hand to catch some of the snowflakes that had started to fall while he'd been indoors. He dropped his hand and shook his head to clear it before moving on. Snow or no snow. Shaking hands or smooth gestures. The world had always been cold to him. The shaking was just a symptom that showed the world how little warmth it had given him over the years.

* * *

_AN: I'm... not actually sure what I was doing with this. I started with a vague idea in mind and when I came back five days later I couldn't remember where I was headed so I just started typing whatever came to mind. Same thing with the end. I'm pretty sure this wasn't what I had in mind when I wrote the middle portion though it might be vaguely along the lines of what I wanted when I started this. _

_So... tell me what you think?_

03/09/14, 031414, 032614


End file.
